


Gotta Love LA

by Isagel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Dominance/submission, Enemy Lovers, Humiliation, M/M, RPF, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagel/pseuds/Isagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is why going to LA never really seems like a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Love LA

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Причина любить Лос-Анджелес](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555017) by [mila007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mila007/pseuds/mila007)



> This is a work of fiction. To the best of my knowledge, this story bears no resemblance to reality at all.
> 
> In July 2010, Johnny and Evan passive-aggressively tweeted about running into each other by chance in an LA night club. I ended up writing this comment fic in a friend's journal as my interpretation of what obviously really went down.

The door opens just as Johnny's about to wash his hands, and he throws an automatic glance over his shoulder at the man entering. He isn't exactly surprised to see that it's Evan, although the situation is cliché bordering on the laughable. This is why going to LA never really seems like a good idea.

He turns his eyes to the mirror, to the reflection of Evan hovering behind him.

"One man following another man into an otherwise empty bathroom," he says, casual as if merely musing out loud. "That only ever ends in one of two ways - with a fistfight or with fellatio." Evan doesn't move or say anything, so Johnny resumes what he was doing, looking down at his hands as he soaps them up and rinses them off under the faucet. "That's cock-sucking to the verbally challenged," he adds, "since I know you're wondering."

There is a beat of silence, filled with the sound of the running water, with the muffled music and voices from outside in the club.

"I don't want to start a fight," Evan says.

The flood of heat to Johnny's groin is sudden and overwhelming.

He turns the water off with a sharp twist and reaches for a towel.

"Funny," he says, and it comes out hurt and vicious. "You seem to be doing that a lot."

"Okay, look," Evan starts, and Johnny catches the nervous movements of his hands in the mirror, awkward and so characteristically graceless. "This was a bad idea, I shouldn't... Forget I..."

But no, that's not how this should go. Not after all these months. Not after the hours they've just spent pretending it doesn't bother them to be in the same room, pretending they don't care, when the other's presence is all they feel.

"You know," Johnny says, cutting Evan off mid babble. "I really fucking hate the things you've been saying about me since Vancouver. But do you know what I loved? I loved that you gave me the opportunity to call you what you really are on national television. So..." He turns, canting his hips back to lean against the marble of the sink. "How is a slut like you still not on his knees?"

"Johnny," Evan says, and it would be outrage, except that he looks like someone helpless and the word is almost a moan. His black jeans are far too tight to hide the size of his hard-on.

"Go on," Johnny says. "Pick a stall."

"You're a headcase, you know that, right?" Evan says, but his eyes rake over Johnny's body as he walks past him, and then he's in the stall farthest from the door, and Johnny is in there with him, turning the lock.

"I know that if you're good enough," he says, sinking back against the tiled wall and opening his fly, "I'll let you take your cock out before you come in your pants just from having me down your throat," and Evan makes the weirdest noise and practically lurches to the floor.

His lips are the same delicate, beautiful shape as ever, and, God, Johnny's missed them, has missed the way they part so eagerly for him, the way they close so soft around his shaft. Has missed the sound Evan makes deep in his throat, the feel of Evan's hair under his fingers, the sight of Evan straining at his feet. Has missed too many ridiculous things he never plans on having.

"Fuck, I hate you," he grits out, and Evan sucks him harder in response, takes him deeper, choking and coming back for more.

Johnny lays a hand around his neck, scrapes his thumbnail across the hollow of his throat to watch his nostrils flare, and thinks about the possibility of learning to love LA.

It doesn't seem entirely far-fetched.


End file.
